


everything is fine.

by stormpilots



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, Other, Suicide, everything is fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormpilots/pseuds/stormpilots
Summary: based on my interpretation of the vague ‘Everything is fine.’ written specifically to annoy one person.





	everything is fine.

_everything is not fine_.

 

he knew it wasn’t fine even as he typed the words, as he uploaded the video. he knew it wasn’t fine even as he drove away, praying that he could leave the whole ordeal behind him. he knew it wasn’t fine even as he assured himself that jessica would be able to live the healthy, long life that jay wanted for her.

 

the words were for jessica. if she did as he had done, and came across the videos, she would hopefully be reassured by those words, convinced of their flimsy message. _everything is fine_. he hoped they would prevent her from following him, and finding what would become of him.

 

but everything is not fine. nothing can ever be fine. alex’s words still ring through his mind, a mind so damaged by the years of trauma and heavy use of medicine that each thought feels as though it is trying to escape him, and he is only barely trying to catch them. they tell him that this is his fault. that his hallucinations were never hallucinations to begin with, and that he brought this... _sickness_ upon everyone. that he killed them all.

 

 _that he killed brian_.

 

the first real friend he had ever had. the only person he had ever been able to fully put his trust in. the only person who ever seemed to see him for more than the countless pages of medical records filed away in various doctor’s offices. the only person who simply saw tim as a person, as a friend.

 

 _that he killed jay_.

 

they had their disagreements. but he never wanted jay to die. he cared for him, even considered him another friend. he tried to protect him, by leaving him at his house when he went to benedict hall. in the end, it seemed he wasn’t meant to survive.

 

 _none of them were_.

 

it’s that thought which now fills his drug addled mind as he paces over the scratchy beige carpet of a cheap hotel room. he doesn’t know where he is. he simply drove until his car was empty, then walked until he came to the first town he could find. he doesn’t care where he ends this — he just wants it to end.

 

he knows what he has to do. perhaps, on some level, he knew it a long time ago. he always knew it. that doesn’t make it any easier. he feels like his whole life has been a fight to survive, and now he has to somehow give up that fight, and succumb to the dark spectres which have always haunted his mind.

 

he’s put a lot of thought into how he’ll do it. drugs; he certainly has no shortage of those. washed down with vodka — as much as he can drink before he chokes — and he should be a goner. it seems to him to be the easiest way out. or maybe he’ll take a fall from the room’s cramped balcony — he’s a good number of floors up, ten or eleven, he thinks, so he stands a good chance of succeeding that way.

 

it’s a question of whether he has the courage. can he give up that fight? can he finally allow that tall, faceless figure which has followed him, always in the back of his mind, the creature which he has spent his whole life running from, to take him now? even knowing that he must, for the sake of countless people, the task is daunting.

 

his thoughts return to brian.

 

he never got to say goodbye. he was right beside him as he died, _he knelt by his side_ , and didn’t even know that the body whose pockets he was rifling through belonged to his best friend. how could he not have known? how could he have spent so long trying to find his identity, how could he have seen him so many times, and not known who he was? that fact haunts his every waking moment, every breath he takes. even when he tries to distract himself with something, _anything_ else, it’s always there, in the back of his mind. he watched brian die, and didn’t even know it was him.

 

he opens the balcony door. cool air and cold, harsh rain stings his face as he steps out, barefoot, onto the cold metal of the balcony. he grips the railing with shaking hands, and looks down to the ground below. with a jolt, he realises that it isn’t only the rain wetting his face — hot tears roll down his cheeks, his skin almost seeming to burn as they carve paths down his face. he leans forward. it seems so easy. to simply fall. he can feel it behind him. it’s come for him. finally, after years of running, it has come to take what it should have taken years ago.

 

he closes his eyes, so he doesn’t have to see it. he isn’t afraid. it’s almost cathartic, the knowledge that there will be no more running, no more hiding. no more blackouts, no more attacks committed by a man in a mask. no more massive chunks of time lost, no more fearing whether or not he still has a job or a home every time he wakes up.

 

he takes a deep breath. the cold air stings his throat. he leans further over the railing, and lifts his leg over. the other leg follows. he’s holding his breath now. the edge of the balcony, outside the railing, is barely wide enough for him to stand. he’s gripping the railing with enough force to turn his knuckles white. below him, someone takes notice, but only shakes their head. perhaps they’ve seen this before. perhaps it happens often. just another suicide.

 

it’s closer now. if he turns around, he’ll see it. he doesn’t want to see it. he’s seen it enough now. another deep breath.

 

and he lets go.

 

it’s easier than he thought it would be. he sees the ground rushing towards him, but doesn’t feel the impact. the numbness is quick to approach. as it crawls up from the tips of his fingers and toes, he sees brian’s face again in his mind. a smile, weak, hardly there, tugs at his lips. he can hardly manage a slow, stuttering breath. it’s standing beside him now. it takes every ounce of strength he has to form his final words.

 

‘brian... i’m sorry...’

 

he doesn’t know if he said them out loud. but they’re there, his final apology, which can never make up for the sin he committed in letting his friend die the way he did. he lets go, feels the numbness cascade over him, lets the blackness envelop him. the final thing he is aware of is the... _thing_ coming closer, before finally, he falls away, life fading into death.


End file.
